# Chapter 19

There was a void. Deep inside of that void was a cliff. This cliff was being washed with underwater currents. Light was still partially penetrating to that depth. In the bottom of the cliff was a crack. Crack that went down and down and down. So deep that nobody ever seen the end of that crack. There was no light there. In the end of the crack, the water was boiling from how close it was to the core of the planet. Inside of that boiling water was Michael's consciousness. Deep in the void of nothingness. Under immense pressure from everything. Boiling from the hell that was his life.

Michael was sixteen years old. He became a literal zombie. Dead inside. But living, somewhat, on the outside. His limbs were thinned. His legs stopped working. His spine device was out of charge for at least six months.

Michael used the wheelchair that he had for emergencies as a way of transportation. He had a lot of money in the wallet. All the income he had received he had kept. He ate barely. Only when the stomach starts aching. He didn't buy anything else.

The place where he lived turned into a giant trash-bin. Floor filled with packages. Though there was a lot of trash, there was almost no variety. About three or so packages repeated themselves over the floor's surface. When he rode the wheelchair, the effect was like a ship that splits the water. Trash moved to either direction to give way for the wheels of the chair.

He wore the same clothes that he wore back when the his father was still alive. He never changed them. Never took them off. Never cleaned them. Never took a shower. He smelled worse than hell, but he himself couldn't smell it. He was already too used to it.

Michael was laying down in the bed, hugging the pillow. Tighter. Even tighter. It was pain. Pain in his stomach. He looked at his desk that was also filled with trash. From the pile of trash he could see a computer peaking slightly. He looked at it. Hesitated. He generally was just laying down. Doing absolutely nothing for the last year. The thought to buy something to eat was an immense challenge. A challenge that he was afraid to take. What if this challenge will take me out of this depression? - He thought.

Pain was worse. He gave in. He reached for the computer. He pressed the button. It didn't work. It was still off. At first he was confused. For the last year it was the first time that this happened. Usually he turned the computer on, ordered something very quickly and shut it off again. This time it would not turn on. Will this mean that I will need to go outside? - He thought. No! Think ... think...

With some effort Michael sat down and looked at the table. He wiped an area of it clean of trash, dropping the trash to the floor. He paused to think. Of course, he thought, the battery. He searched with his hands through the remaining trash. He found what he was looking for. It was an old charger. A device that once was installed in his bed. He put the computer onto the charger. It fell from it. The charger was soft and fluffy. It was meant to be installed in the bed. The computer was a shape not compatible with the charger. Too much challenge, Michael thought. He was afraid of getting out of the depression.

He grabbed a piece of trash from the floor. It was a plastic box. He put the computer back onto the charger and used the piece of trash diagonally, to hold it in place. He slowly removed his hands. It worked. The computer was now charging. 

Michael smiled. He realized that he just smiled. He frowned the smile away and a shiver came right through him. How dare I smile? - He thought. A slight dopamine rush came. He was fighting with it. He was forcing himself to get rid of it. Frowning as hard as he could. Thinking about the pain in his stomach. Thinking about the trash on the floor. About how miserable he is.

He pressed the computer again. It turned on. He saw the messenger's icon having a little circle at it's corner with a number "99+" written in it. He already saw it before. At first there was a "1". Few month later it went up to a "20" and then it stuck on "99+". Somebody was trying to reach him. But he didn't want to see who. Or didn't want to talk to nobody. A thought came through him that made him feel more shivering. Perhaps this dopamine rush will cause me to view it, he thought. No! I can't!

He ordered some food instead. As he was waiting for the food, the icon with "99+" was not escaping his mind. That dopamine rush. The intrigue. The curiosity that made a second dopamine rush. He was loosing it. He was loosing the depression. How dared he? He frowned even harder. The pain in the stomach. The trash. I will eat soon. I can clean that trash. No!

He pressed the computer again. There was this icon. There was this number still visible with it's plus sign. He looked at it. Hesitated. His fingers moved toward it. Suddenly, he heard how the food was pushed through the contact-less delivery shaft. The pain, he thought, I must eat. So he left the computer and went after the food.

As he ate he looked at this messenger logo. He thought, I may look into it and invent a strategy with it. Something to make myself depressed again.

He finished eating and went toward the messenger. He finally opened it up. The messages were from Mr. Toilet. He was trying to reach Drunken Monkey. He was getting nervous. He wanted to know if everything is alright. He even wanted to meet with Drunken Monkey in the real world.

A friend, he thought, a real friend. I know what I can do to make myself worse. I can tell him who I am and where I live. I will give away my personal information to a stranger on the mega-net. Yes! This is most definitely a mistake. This is what I need to feel even more miserable.

So Michael wrote back.
